


5 times Peter realises how much Tony cares

by PinkEasterEggs



Series: Realisations [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5 + 1, 5+1 Things, And an even better uncle, Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Bad guys say 'fuck' like 3 times, Bullying, Derogatory Language, Domestic Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Field Trip, Hurt Peter Parker, It Has to be Done, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, May Parker (Spider-Man) Dies, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Nothing bad happens though, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Stabbing, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-11-29 12:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18223235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkEasterEggs/pseuds/PinkEasterEggs
Summary: And the one time Peter returns the feeling





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Omg this is my first story so i hope you like it :))))

Peter didn’t bother trying to sneak in when he returned home from patrol on Tuesday evening. Of course he changed into his civilian clothing behind the dumpster a street away from his apartment— like he always did— but he didn’t need to climb the fire escape into his bedroom. Instead, he went up the stairs like any normal teenage boy returning home in time for dinner.

His apartment was cold and empty as he shut the door behind him. Peter turned on the lights and sighed at the lingering loneliness he felt walking in to no sound of May burning their dinner in the kitchen. 

When May had broached the subject of Night School to Peter several weeks ago, Peter had been all for it. He supported his Aunt no matter what and he believed she deserved the best chance of furthering her career and if that meant extra education at a night school nearby, then Peter was there cheering her on and pushing her towards it. The course was only several months long but after it, it meant May stood a high chance of a promotion. Peter hadn’t thought twice to tell her yes, go do it!

But he hadn’t thought about how lonely evenings would become. May worked during the day and by the time he came home from patrol, she was already off to night school with a bowl of leftovers for him to eat in the fridge and a ‘i larb you’ written on the fridge. 

Peter missed her. He grabbed the cold leftovers, shoving it in the microwave and sighed again. For two and a half weeks, Peter had eaten by himself. Not that he was trying to spoil May’s moment and he knew her life was far more stressful than his right now: juggling work, school and him on her plate wasn’t easy. But he would like to have someone to talk to at night. May wouldn’t get home until past midnight.

Peter couldn’t even patrol to pass time. Mr Stark had laid down ground rules after two weeks ago he’d started slacking at school as he’d been going out as Spider-Man until 1am— sneaking in before May arrived home. Mr Stark had set him a bedtime basically: patrolling after school until 7 when he had to go home and eat and do homework. No patrolling after dinner. 

Peter phoned Ned as he ate his leftovers, the food not tasting right due to it having been reheated. Leftovers didn’t compare to fresh out of the oven meals. He listened to Ned chatter for what seemed like ages, wishing his friend was with him desperately, before he got called away to dinner. 

“Sorry dude my mum made lasagne— gotta go!”

“Bye Ned,” Peter sighed as the call ended, his apartment suddenly feeling even colder. At least tomorrow was a lab day with Mr Stark, Peter thought. Wednesdays were the only days Peter was given off his bedtime— Happy always picked him up from school and drove him to the compound where Peter would whizz through his homework and help Mr Stark out in the lab. Then, at 7, Happy drove him home where Peter was to eat dinner and Mr Stark let him patrol until 10pm. Wednesdays were his favourite days. 

——————

School seemed to whizz by the next day. Before Peter knew it, he was sitting in the back of Happy’s car, talking the guys ear off even though Peter was sure Happy was ignoring everything he said.

“And then Ned said ‘yeetus the foetus’ and MJ threw her apple at him-“

“Kid we’re here, get out.” Happy sent him a glare as Peter finally looked up, noticing he was right outside the compound.

“Wow— thanks Happy! See you later!”

“Yeah yeah,” the man rolled his eyes as Peter jumped out the car. He always felt extremely excited before seeing Mr Stark in the lab. The idea of spending several hours with his father figure mentor always brought a smile to his face. When he reached the lab, Mr Stark was heavily engrossed in upgrading one of his suits, his eyes only focused on the task at hand as Peter entered his security code and walked into the lab.

“Hey Mr Stark!” He called, plopping his bag on the ground and walking over.

“Jesus kid!” Mr Stark jumped almost up, his eyes wide before they landed on Peter. “God you scared me to death.”

Peter cringed. “Sorry Mr Stark, i’m just excited i guess.”

Mr Stark’s expression softened and he ruffled Peter’s hair. “That’s good. I wouldn’t want my favourite mentee getting sick of me so soon, do I?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Mr Stark, i’m your only mentee!”

Mr Stark chuckled, pointing at Peter. “And therefore, by default, you’re the favourite.”

They spent the next few hours alternating between Peter’s difficult calculus homework with Mr Stark helping him out when at one point he got stuck to upgrading Peter’s suit, adding in the idea of waterproof webbing.

Before either one of them knew it, it was past 7 and Happy was banging on the lab door with a frown. Mr Stark looked at his watch, frowning, stating how he didn’t know how it got to 7 already.

“I’ll see you next week Mr Stark!” Peter waved goodbye as he grabbed his bag and walked out to Happy.

“See you kid,” Mr Stark called. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Peter wished he could’ve stayed longer. When Happy dropped him off home, not even waiting to see Peter enter, the teenager felt as if his apartment had become even more stiflingly lonely. He didn’t even bother to heat up the leftovers as plopped himself down on the sofa, cold tray in hand.

——————

The following week, Peter dreaded when Mr Stark would send him home. After another week of eating alone in the empty apartment, Peter could honestly say he’d never felt so alone. He’d seen May for about 5 minutes that morning because she’d been running late and he missed her so much. He missed sitting down and talking to someone over a meal, feeling like there was someone to listen to his silly school stories. Ned had been grounded too, meaning Peter couldn’t even talk to his best friend when he got home.

“Alright kid, what gives?” Mr Stark asked, twirling his chair so he was facing Peter. The kid had been almost silent the entire time he was over and was constantly checking his watch, his body getting more and more fidgety as time passed. 

“It’s n-nothing Mr Stark,” Peter shook his head. It was already a quarter to 7 and the idea of eating cold leftovers for the fourth week straight made him feel sick.

“Well something is wrong. You haven’t spoken in an hour and you keep looking at your watch. Either something is upsetting you or i’m just bad company.”

“W-what? Oh no, it’s not you Mr Stark— honest!” Peter’s eyes were wide at the horror of the thought. Mr Stark bad company? Impossible. “I— uh, well May’s being going to night school-“

“She has? Well that’s great for Aunt Hottie. Tell her I say congrats!” Mr Stark cheered. 

“Uh y-yeah, I will. She’ll say thanks.”

“Wait—“ Mr Stark pulled a face, like he was piecing in a puzzle. “She goes every evening?” Peter nodded, looking down. “You cook dinner kiddo?”

“May—uh, she leaves me leftovers.”

“Gross,” Mr Stark made a face. “Is that why you’re all glum-ville over there?”

“Uh yeah,” Peter can feel his face getting red. God, he bet Mr Stark thought he was childish right now. “It just gets lonely y-you know?”

“I sure do kid,” Mr Stark sighed. “After my parents— y’know— the silence was unbearable. My dad never ate dinners with me but my mum always made time. I got lonely without her.”

Peter nodded silently, rubbing his arm. He kept his eyes down, feeling too embarrassed to look Mr Stark in the eyes. 

“Why don’t you eat here?” 

Peter’s eyes shot up, his mouth open. “W-what?”

Mr Stark shrugged, trying his best to look casual. “Sure, why not? If you want to of course. I don’t normally eat proper sit-down dinners but i can order a pizza to the lab if you want it?”

“I r-really don’t wanna impose,” Peter bit his lip. Yes, yes, yes please.

“It’s not imposing if i asked,” Mr Stark smiled slightly. “FRIDAY, be a dear and order three large pizzas for spider-baby please. And let Happy know the kid will need a lift later than usual.”

“You got it, boss,” the AI called out. 

“Sit tight kid,” Tony winked at him before returning to his work. Peter couldn’t help but feel slight disappointment at the fact he was still going to be eating by himself. At least Mr Stark was still there. 

 

—————

“Peter is that Happy’s car?” Ned cut into Peter’s thoughts as they walked out of school the next day. Peter frowned as he followed Ned’s finger to the sleek, black Audi parked by the curb of his school. Why was Happy here?

“It’s not Wednesday, right Ned?” Peter frowned harder. He was sure yesterday hadn’t been a dream— he’d gone to Mr Stark’s and the man had ordered him a pizza. That had happened, right?

“Yeah dude, it’s definitely Thursday!” Ned agreed before gasping. “Maybe it’s a mission!”

Peter shushed him before they completed their secret handshake and he walked towards the car. As he got closer, the driver side window rolled down and Peter found himself staring at Mr Stark. 

“Mr Stark? What you doing here? Is it a mission? What’s going on? I have my suit, I can change-“

“Kid, kid, calm down!” Mr Stark chuckled. “There’s no mission— hop on in.”

Peter rounded the car, opening the door to the back when he heard Mr Stark scoff. “Upfront kid, come on; you’re old enough now.”

Peter blushed before sitting in the passenger seat, wringing his hands together. “You didn’t need to come get me Mr Stark, i know you’re busy and all with the Avengers and SI— i don’t want to take away any of your time-“

“Kid,” Mr Stark cut him off. “I’m here cause i wanna be. Now you going to tell me about your day or do i have to pry it out of you.” Peter smirked before reliving his day to Mr Stark who— unlike Happy— laughed and nodded in all the right places.

They spent several hours in the lab before Tony checked his watch. “It’s 7 kid,” he called, stretching as he got up. Peter nodded glumly, dreading going back to his empty apartment and leftovers. He’d even take Mr Stark’s pizza. 

Peter followed Mr Stark up the stairs towards the living floor when instead of leading him to the door, Mr Stark walked further into his suite. Peter hesitated before following, wondering if Happy was meant to have met him somewhere and he was about to follow Mr Stark into his home accidentally. 

Just when he was about to turn around and call out for Happy, Peter spotted Mr Stark standing beside a long, oak dining room table. “Ta da!” Mr Stark called out, gesturing to the meals placed eloquently down with all the condiments placed according and drinks laid out. Peter was taken aback. 

“Um Mr Stark?”

And then Pepper Potts walked in. Her hair was tied up neatly and she’d changed out of her work clothes into a simple pair of jeans and jumper. Peter had met Mr Stark’s fiancé before but he’d never seen her so casual. 

“Hi Peter,” she smiled at him before taking her place at the table. Mr Stark followed suit, sitting opposite her and starting to spoon salad on his plate.

“You going to stand there kid or you gonna sit?” Mr Stark teased. “We got a seat here with your name on it.”

Peter slowly moved and sat down at the head of the table, perfectly between both Mr Stark and Miss Potts— he kept glancing between the two in a daze. What was going on?

“We thought you would appreciate a nice home-cooked meal, Peter,” Pepper answered his thoughts. “God knows Tony and I are never free enough to eat together so we’ve decided to free our schedules specifically for a nice sit down meal, right Tony?”

“As you say Ms Potts,” Mr Stark nodded, sprinkling salt over his cooked steak. “You do like steak right kiddo?”

“Uh yeah i l-love it,” Peter nodded, mouth watering at the sight.

“Well tuck in kid,” Mr Stark smirked “before those spider genes waste away.”

After that day, Peter found himself eating dinner with the Starks almost every night, most days Pepper cleared her schedule just to be there and several times Rhodey made an appearance, declaring he wouldn’t turn down free food. But even if it was just him and Mr Stark, Peter didn’t mind. 

He was just glad Mr Stark cared.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets hurt as Spider-Man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some minor violence and occasional swearing in this chapter. There's also some referenced/ implied sexual assault but it all works out okay. Just cover your eyes chirren :))))

The feeling of swinging through New York’s streets never got old to Peter— or Spider-Man, as he currently was. The rush of adrenaline as well as the weightlessness of flying through the air a few seconds at a time, made him feel on top of the world. 

“Hey Karen any crime reported?” Peter asked, swinging between two large buildings before landing easily on the roof of a smaller one. It was still pretty early— only 4:13pm on a Wednesday—so he doubted there was much to report.

Like he expected, Karen replied with a simple “not in the last 20 minutes, Peter.” If he didn’t know better, he exasperated tone almost sounded like Miss Potts when she overheard something Mr Stark had done in the lab. It made him slightly sad; Mr Stark had texted him at lunch saying there had been an important meeting he hadn’t been able to get out of so wouldn’t be able to do a lab day, much to Peter’s dismay. Mr Stark had promised he didn’t want to miss it as much as Peter did and had promised to do something extra fun next week. 

Peter couldn’t blame Mr Stark— he knew the billionaire was busy. It was honestly a miracle that they had been able to spend so much time together in general. Mr Stark had said that he should be finished before 7 though so Peter could still come over for dinner. 

The dinners at Mr Stark’s were honestly the highlight of Peter’s life right now— maybe except for Spider-Man. Between Miss Potts politely asking Peter how his day had been and Mr Stark teasing him over his nerdy t-shirt puns, he loved the feeling of being included and surrounded by people who cared. Even when Rhodey came, the man treated Peter like he’d been there from the start. 

“Peter i’m detecting a commotion three streets away from you,” Karen’s voice cut through his thoughts. She sounded urgent and when Peter strained, he could just about pick up the muffled cries and slurs from whatever was happening a few streets down.

When Peter arrived at the scene, he crouched down on the building above, watching as two men were grabbing a young women and shouting insults at her. It made his blood boil watching them push and smack her around. The men were white and beefy, with large muscles and one had a tattoo just under his eye of a skull. Skully had short black hair with a mean snarl stuck on his face whilst the other guy had long, ginger locks tied back and bruises on his knuckles.

“Yeah you like that?” Skully shouted at her, pushing the brunette women dressed in work clothes from a close-by convenience store, into the chest of the ginger guy. “You want this?”

“N-no!” The woman sobbed, trying to escape the ginger guys hold as he pinned her arms behind his back. “P-please let m-me g-go!”

The ginger man laughed, rough and hard. “But then we couldn’t have any fun, Princess!” 

Peter couldn’t stand to watch anymore, instead jumping down from the building and walking over. “You know, i think i heard the lady telling you to let her go.”

“Fuck,” Skully turned around, eyes wide and full of hatred. “You’re that Spider shit.”  
“Uh, its Spider-Man!” Peter rambled. “I don’t wanna call myself a celebrity and i’m definitely not an Avenger— but my names been in the papers a few times. Not to brag. Don’t read the Daily Bugle though, all of what they put is lie- oh wow you’re going to hit me.” Peter dodged the fist coming towards him, grabbing the man’s wrist and using one of his webs to fire into his face. Skully let out a snarl, using his other hand to try and rip off the webbing. Spider-Man shot one last web at his feet to keep him in place.

“You step closer you Spider-fuck and i’ll stab this bitch where she stands,” Ginger Man snarls, a blade held to the woman’s throat. Spider-Man froze, raising his hands in a peaceful way.

“Okay, okay— staying right here dude. Maybe lets let the woman go free? I think she would much rather go home right now.” Judging by her wide eyes and tear tracks, she looked very much like she would rather be anywhere else.

“Or how about you fuck off and leave me to have some fun, yeah?” The man snarled again.

“I think your idea of what is fun is extremely perverted.” Spider-Man shot back. “And trust me, i’m no fan of perverts.” Quick as lightning, Peter shot a web out to the knife, pulling it out of the man’s hand and let it fall somewhere behind him. He shot another one out at the woman, pulling her to safety before sending three more webs to stick the man to the wall behind him.

“Now this,” Spider-Man teased, “is what i call fun!”

“Spider-Man watch out!” The woman screamed, still laying on the floor and finally safe. Just as she screamed, his spidey sense went off, alerting him to trouble just as he felt a sharp pain in his side. 

“You better watch out Spider-shit.” Skully spat, having broken free from his webs. Spider-Man quickly sent a punch to his face, knocking the man out. His hand went down to his now throbbing side, gagging slightly when he saw the blood. Oh god, he’d been stabbed. He’d never been stabbed before. Oh wow, it hurt. It hurt a lot.

The woman came running over, her hair a mess and her clothes rumpled. “Spider-Man are you okay??” 

Peter felt suddenly woozy, his knees ready to buckle as he watched the woman approach. “I’m f-fine ma’am,” he nodded, feeling ready to pass out. God, it really hurt. He could feel the blood rushing out and it was running down his body and suit now, making his hip and legs feel all warm and sticky. The wound was throbbing and Peter honestly didn’t know what to do.

But Mr Stark would. 

Peter almost asked Karen to phone his mentor before he remembered that the man was busy in a meeting. Mr Stark would be mad if Peter interrupted him, especially after he cancelled on him earlier. Maybe if he just swung by the compound Mr Stark wouldn’t be so mad? He could sit and wait until the man was finished and then let him know? 

“Thank you Spider-Man!” The woman yelled as he shot a web up and swung off. He almost didn’t hear her over the warning sounds his mask was making.

“Peter you seem to have a deep stab wound on your left side, above your hip,” Karen said unhelpfully. “As per protocol, i am in need to contact Mr Stark.”

“N-no Karen, don’t! I’m on my way to him right now! Can you please plot the quickest course to the compound?”

Swinging around with a stab wound was considerably less fun than swinging around normally. The pain had worsened by the time he got to the compound and he was pretty sure he was dripping blood now, feeling the hot liquid between his toes. He clung onto the compounds building, entering through one of the windows in Mr Stark’s private floor— he had full access to enter so no one was alerted of a security threat. 

“Hello Peter,” FRIDAY welcomed him. “Karen has alerted me to your injury. Do you wish me to inform Boss?” 

“No FRI,” his voice was woozy and he felt light-headed now. Peter wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest his head. The wound wasn’t probably that bad, it was probably healed up by now — he didn’t want to freak Mr Stark out for no reason. He’d just have a nap and wake up before Mr Stark finished his meeting, have a quick shower and have dinner like usual. See? Simple.

Just as Peter laid down on the yellow sofa in Mr Stark’s living room, he heard the sound of the elevator ding. Followed by the sound of heels on the floor, he heard a woman speaking into the phone as he closed his eyes. Maybe if he was still, she wouldn’t see him.

“Last I checked I was the CEO of Stark Industries and i’ve been looking over the stocks in our name and we need to- PETER!” 

He faintly heard a woman scream and the sound of feet running towards him but he was so tired that he was out before she could even reach him.

—————

It was the sound of continuous, monotonous beeping that eventually lulled him awake. He groaned as he woke up, blinking away the harsh lights that had suddenly bombarded his vision. He heard a soft voice beside him say, “FRI, lights to 10%”. Mr Stark— wasn’t he at his meeting.

“Hey kiddo,” Mr Stark spoke up, his voice was soft but Peter could hear the concern in it. 

“Mr Stark?” His throat was sore and as if he read his mind, Mr Stark handed him a cup of water, helping Peter sit up enough to drink it. “Thanks,” Peter mumbled when he’d drank it all. “Where am I?”

“The compounds medical unit,” Mr Stark sighed. Peter looked at him properly for the first time, the man was still dressed in the suit Peter was sure he’d been wearing to the meeting, except now it was all rumpled and creased and his tie was thrown on the back of the chair he was resting on. Mr Stark looked thoroughly exhausted, his face full of concern and his hair a mess, as if he’d run his hand through it a million times. 

“Why?” Peter asked, finally realising he was laying in a hospital bed, there was an IV attached to his hand and the beeping was his heartbeat. It seemed suddenly very sinister. His hand quickly went down to his side, to where the stab wound had been but he couldn’t feel anything— there wasn’t even a scar. Peter looked at Mr Stark with a frown.

“It’s completely healed,” Mr Stark sighed. “It healed before you even entered the compound according to Karen’s stats.”

“Then why am i here?” Peter frowned.

Mr Stark suddenly frowned, his voice getting harder suddenly. “Because after getting fucking stabbed— pardon my French— and i can’t stress this enough: failing to call me; you didn’t apply any pressure on the wound and swung across the city whilst bleeding out before deciding to have a nap on my $10,000 sofa! Only for my now-traumatised fiancé to walk in and find you unconscious from blood loss!”

Peter paled, suddenly remembering having heard Pepper walk in before he’d blacked out. “Mr Stark i’m so sorry— is Miss Potts okay?”

“Pep’s fine— she’s worried about you kid. She’ll be back in a minute; she just went to phone your Aunt.”

“And i’m sorry about the sofa too! I didn’t know it was so expensive— i would’ve just laid down on the floor if i’d known!”

Mr Stark let out a heavy sigh, placing his head in his hands for a few seconds. “Peter! I don’t care about the sofa!” He spoke harshly, making the teen cringe. He seemed to control himself as he raised his head to see Peter’s worried expression. “Kid,” he spoke softly, “it’s not the sofa i care about. It’s you, okay? I’m scared about the fact that you didn’t call me when you got hurt or when you reached the compound. I’m scared that you could’ve died— you lost a lot of blood kid, they had to give you a transfusion. You’re lucky you don’t have a rare blood type or you would be-“

“Dead,” Peter whispered when Mr Stark faltered. The man paled slightly, nodding as if it was the most painful thing ever. 

“You should’ve called me, Peter.” He knew he was in trouble when Mr Stark called him by his actual name— he was always Pete, Kid, Kiddo, Spider-Baby or Parker. Never just Peter. 

“You were busy!” Peter argued. “You had that important meeting— i didn’t want to get in the way.

“Peter, listen to me. And i mean it: actually listen and take in what i say right now, okay? If you get hurt or injured or something happens, then you call me. I don’t care if i’m in a meeting with the bloody President, okay, i will answer your call and i will be there. No doubt about it.”

Peter nodded, feeling suddenly far safer than he had a few hours ago. Now, he doesn’t know why he didn’t call. Watching as Mr Stark ran a hand through his hair, whispering that Peter should go back to sleep, softly telling him he’d be there when he woke up, Peter knew he should’ve called.

Because Mr Stark cares.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its the beloved field trip! And a side helping of Uncle Rhodey because there isn't enough of that :)))))))

Honestly, Peter didn’t know why he didn’t call in sick. He really should’ve, he thinks as the big, yellow school bus pulls away from the school and into the normal morning Queens traffic. Ned’s a ball of excitement beside him, practically jumping in his seat. Peter, on the other hand, felt rather sick.

“This is so cool dude,” Ned’s voice was unnaturally high as he wiggled in his seat. “How do you think Mr Harrington got these tickets?” 

“SI always rewards STEM schools with a tour if they show outstanding work,” MJ replies, her nose still in her book, from the seats on the row opposite them. “They have for the past 5 years.”

Peter groaned again, unsure of how his luck could’ve honestly gotten worse. He honestly believed that the universe should give him a break: with all the deaths he’s had in his family, the fact he was bitten by a goddamn radioactive spider and then having to keep his alter-ego a secret— he truly believed 100% that a field trip to Stark Industries was the tipping point.

“Hey Penis!” Flash shouted from a few seats down. “Can’t wait to get there and prove you lied about your internship! My bet is that you’ll cry 20 minutes in.”

“Nah,” one of Flash’s friends laughed. “I bet he’ll last 10 minutes before blubbering!” 

And that was why the universe owed him.

“Ignore them, Peter,” Ned rolled his eyes. “You’ll prove them wrong soon.”

“That’s the thing Ned!” Peter sunk down in his seat more, a wave of dread filling him. “I can’t prove them wrong! I don’t have an internship!”

“But dude!” Ned leaned in and whispered “you have. . . the other guy!”

Peter sent a quick look MJ’s way at Ned’s poor attempt to whisper, noticing the girls eyes were still glued to her book. “Don’t worry,” she didn’t look up as she spoke. “I won’t expose you, Parker.”

Peter spluttered, his eyes widening as he took in what MJ said. She knew?! “You know?”

MJ raised her head, looking straight at Peter before deadpanning: “You aren’t exactly subtle.” She turned back to her book, her expression never changing. “Now, if you don’t mind i would like to finish this before we get there.”

Peter turned back to Ned not sure if he should be surprised or just accept that it was inevitable MJ had known. Ned looked equally as surprised before shaking his head and acting like nothing had happened. “But you know Iron Man Peter!”

“Peter Parker doesn’t,” Peter sighed. “I don’t have an internship.”

“You go to Mr Stark’s weekly!” Ned argued. “You work in his lab! You eat dinner with him and Ms Potts— which you haven’t invited me to yet!” Ned pouted.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Ned, i’m Mr Stark’s guest; not his intern or employee. A normal intern would work in the employee labs and know other workers! I don’t know anyone or anything. I enter through Mr Stark’s private entrance and spend the evenings in his private lab. I haven’t even been around the majority of the compound myself.”

“Just tell them you’re Mr Stark’s personal intern!”

Peter shot a look behind him to where Flash was laughing with his friends. “No one is going to believe me,” he sighed. He’d practically begged Aunt May to phone him in sick that morning but she’d been exhausted from her night schooling and had, in the nicest way, told him to “suck it up”. 

Yeah, Peter thought grimly as the bus continued its path to his doom, the universe definitely owed him one.

——————

When they arrived at the compound, a wave of nausea overcame Peter. This was it; this is how he would die. Not at the hands of some street criminal whilst he fought crime in a spandex suit, nor even aliens— no, Peter Parker was going to die the second he stepped into Stark Industries and no one knew who he was.

He caught Flash’s eye as they got off the bus and he wanted to hurl. The other boy was smirking at him in a knowing way— like he just knew that Peter was about to have his whole social life ruined and his reputation completely tarnished. After all, no one liked a liar.

“Okay kids this is a standard field trip,” Mr Harrington spoke loudly so everyone could hear. “So remember the usual rules, that includes no wandering off—“ he gave Peter a look before continuing. “We have Midtown’s reputation to uphold. And now that boring talk is done, lets get our Stark Industries on!” A few kids laughed at their teachers awkwardness, following him into the shiny and immaculate Stark Industries lobby floor. 

It took five minutes for Mr Harrington to sign them in, meaning five whole minutes of Flash’s relentless cutting marks. The boy looked down at his watch and smirked. “Well Logan,” he turned to the friend who had joked with him on the bus. “We’ve been here 5 minutes— you got another 5 minutes until Penis starts crying.”

“I’m surprised you can do the math,” MJ spoke up, her head still in her book but a frown on her face. 

Flash spluttered, looking offended. “I’m on the Academic Decathlon team!”

MJ looked up from her book with an unimpressed look. “Barely.” She stated calmly, “And if you keep this up, you won’t be.”

“Whatever,” Logan rolled his eyes, pulling Flash away before the boy could make it worse.

“Thanks MJ,” Peter muttered; for some reason it made him slightly giddy that she had stuck up for him.

“That was so cool MJ!” Ned laughed once Flash had walked off. “You totally just owned him!” The girl in question just shrugged in acknowledgement, going back to her book.

Just then, Mr Harrington returned with a blonde haired woman in a pencil skirt and blue blouse. Her hair was tied up immaculately and her face was set with a false smile in greeting. “Hello Midtown,” she nodded to the students, her accent suggesting she wasn’t from New York originally. “My name is Amanda Thomas and i’m going to be your tour guide for the day!”

Peter zoned out as she gave the safety talk; he knew the main things from Mr Stark: don’t run in the hallways as scientists could be walking around with important stuff between labs, don’t touch anything that isn’t yours in case its dangerous. . . it was all pretty simple.

“Is Mr Stark here?” One of the students called out once she had finished her talk.

Amanda smiled slightly, probably having heard the question a lot. “As a matter of fact he is.” There was a squeal from the girl who had asked— Peter tried not to gag. “But don’t get your hopes up; Mr Stark is incredibly busy and he always works on the top floors where his own living space is— i wouldn’t be expecting any surprise visits.” There were a few frowns on his classmates faces.

“Alright,” Amanda called. “Let’s get started then. I’m going to pass out your security badges now— please wear them on the front of your jackets in an easily recognisable place. Our Head of Security, Mr Hogan, can get rather . . . tetchy about this.” She started passing out white badges with a red number 1 on them. “There are 6 levels here at SI— 1 for guests such as tour groups and visiting family members. 2 for lower level employees like the cleaning crew. 3 for employees not involved in the more technical aspects of Stark Industries— like myself, a tour guide, and receptionists. 4 is for security, 5 is for the other employees like the scientists and upper level PR people and legal time. And finally, 6 is for the highest ranks like the CEO of Stark Industries, Miss Potts and Mr Stark— and whoever he deems is necessary for such badge.”

“What number do interns get?” Flash asked as she handed him his badge, shooting Peter a nasty look with a smirk.

“Interns and assistants have level 4 badges but they’re number is blue unlike the red on yours.”

Peter prayed to every deity that she would stop at him and go: Ah Mr Parker, Mr Stark has spoken highly of you, he never gave you your badge— here it is! But no luck, she didn’t even spare him a glance as she gave him a standard guest pass. 

“Do you have multiple badges for each employee?” Logan asked as Flash’s smirk grew, eyeing the badge in Peter’s hand.

Amanda shook her head. “Nope, one badge for each employee. If lost or destroyed, they have to deactivate it at the front desk and get a new one. And don’t think about selling these online later, they’ll be deactivated once you leave. Alright, lets start the tour!”

Peter felt his face go red as he clipped the guest badge to his jacket. Everyone started walking after Amanda towards the elevators. Peter watched as Flash hung back, the smirk still on his face.

“So Penis, where’s your badge? One badge per employee remember? All i see is a standard guest badge.”

Peter groaned as they entered the elevator. Yep, he was dead.

 

——————

The first half hour passed rather quickly and without trouble. Peter made it his mission to stay away from Flash who had decided that Peter’s lack of a level 4 badge meant he had fabricated his whole internship story. This had then spread like wildfire through his classmates, who would whisper every now and then about his supposed lies. He hated having super hearing when he could hear all the smack they spoke about him.

“—he lied, he doesn’t have an internship badge!”

“I never thought he was the compulsive liar type.”

“He’s so attention seeking.”

“What a dork.”

Peter groaned, standing towards the back of the group as his classmates sent him looks every now and then. Amanda was going over the company’s conversion from mass weapon making to sustainable energy and the impact it made on society. 

“Where you been Penis, its almost like you’ve been trying to avoid me?” Flash finally caught up to him, slowly having weaved through the students to the back. 

“Leave me alone Flash, okay?”

“What’s up Penis?” Flash mocked him. “You embarrassed that everyone knows the truth now?”

“I do work here Flash! Honest!” Peter tried it one last time. This seemed to only anger Flash more for he rolled his eyes and snarled at him.

“Oh really? Where’s you internship badge Penis? How come no one here recognises you? Watch this!” Peter’s face paled as Flash put up his hand once the intern who Amanda had called upon to talk about the sustainable energy he works on, had stopped talking. 

“Uh yeah?” The intern was probably in his early 20s, looking far older than Peter’s tender teenage age.

“How old do you have to be to intern here?” Flash spoke innocently.

“The youngest admission age was a senior at college, kid. You can apply freshman year but there’s no chance you’ll get in, sorry.”

Flash turned back to Peter, his voice quieter. “You’ve been proved a liar every minute of this tour Penis. You know, just because your uncle died doesn’t give you the right to be an attention-seeking whore.”

It was like the breath had been sucked out of him. Tears sprang to his eyes at the callous mention of Uncle Ben, making Peter want to run off and cry. He could feel his breaths becoming harsher, making him want to puke. He watched with wide eyes as Flash sent him a sneer before following the moving group of students to the next available lab room.

Instead of following, Peter turned around and walked down the opposite hall. His mind was in a fog and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. It had been a year since Uncle Ben died and the mention of him from Flash’s lips made him feel like it was yesterday. He almost passed out when he looked at his hands and all he could see was red. He’d washed Ben’s blood off them! He had, he had, he had . . . 

“Woah Pete, watch where you’re going!” A familiar voice called as Peter collided into a solid chest. He blinked up, his eyelashes wet with tears before finally recognising that the man he’d walked into was Rhodey. He was dressed down in casual clothes, meaning he was either on his way or coming back from seeing Mr Stark. 

“R-Rhodey?” Peter sniffed, taking a small step back so he wasn’t in the man’s personal space. When had he started crying? Peter looked at his hands again: they were clean. The realisation made him both full of relief and also extremely sad. He’d just freaked out for no reason.

“Peter, what’s wrong?” Rhodey frowned, concern evident on his face and in his voice. He stepped closer and put a hand on the teens shoulder. After spending so much time with Tony’s intern (or son-figure because who was Rhodey kidding?)— internally admitting that he made more of an effort to come to dinner at his best friends if the kid was there— he didn’t like to see Peter so upset. 

“I’s no-nothing Rhodey,” Peter wiped away his tears with his sleeve. “I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologise Peter,” Rhodes spoke seriously. “Just tell me you’re okay. Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“I have a f-field trip,” Peter sniffled, trying to stop himself from crying again.

“Peter-“ And then the dam broke again; Flash’s comment circled his mind and before he knew it, he was sobbing into Rhodey’s chest, his body moving up and down in a full-hearted crying sort of way. Rhodey just held him tight, rubbing his back and whispering kind words into his ear to calm him down. 

“Do you want Tony?” Rhodey asked after Peter calmed and his crying stopped. Peter shook his head against Rhodey’s chest. As much as he did want Mr Stark, Peter knew the man was busy and he did feel better now after a good cry. “You want to talk about it?”

“It was just a kid at my school’s dumb comment— i don’t know it hit a cord,” Peter shrugged it off, rubbing his face as he stood back out of Rhodey’s grasp. “I’m sorry Rhodey, i didn’t mean to cross any boundaries-“

“Hey, enough of that,” Rhodey punched Peter’s shoulder in a jokey way. “Anything for my nephew,” he teased.

Peter blushed at the insinuation. Rhodey surely didn’t mean that Mr Stark was like his . . . right? The thought didn’t seem too foreign in Peter’s mind. He actually liked it. 

“I should get back to my class,” Peter realised, looking in the direction they’d gone. 

“Alright,” Rhodey looked concerned again. “If you need me, give me a call, yeah? I know Tones put my number in your phone. I’m always one text or call away.”

Peter smiled, feeling suddenly happier. “Okay, i’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Of course kid, i think it’s spaghetti bolognese tonight!” 

Peter waved goodbye, wandering back the way he’d come, feeling far more loved than he had 20 minutes ago. It took 5 minutes to find his class, slowly sneaking back into the ranks of his classmates as if he’d never left. He caught Ned’s eye from the front and the other boy frowned at him. Peter just shrugged.

———————

It was ten minutes into lunch that shit hit the fan— a full fifteen minutes since Peter had cried on Rhodey’s shoulder. They were sitting in the Stark Industries lunch hall, Ned and Peter chewing their sandwiches separate from the rest of class and MJ silently reading her book, when Peter realised someone had sat down beside him.

The man in question was wearing a baseball cap and dark sunglasses as if he was going incognito. From the way Ned’s mouth was open wide in shock, the disguise was failing.

“You alright kid?” Mr Stark asked, taking one of Peter’s grapes from his fruit pot and popping it in his mouth. Despite the causal way of asking, Peter could hear the crazy concern in his tone. He’d wondered how long it would take Rhodey to tell his best friend about Peter’s breakdown.

“I’m alright Mr Stark,” Peter replied, speaking softly so his classmates don’t hear. 

Mr Stark places a hand around Peter’s shoulder, pulling him in. “Really? Because i heard from Platypus that you had a bit of a rough time— say 15 minutes ago?”

Peter sighed. “I’m fine now.”

Mr Stark hummed in a disbelieving way. “Talk to me kid, please.”

“A kid made a dumb comment— its nothing.”

“A dumb comment doesn’t make you quote sob so violently i thought he would pass out unquote,” Mr Stark frowned. “Rhodey was pretty worried, he said you were staring at your hands when you walked into him.”

Peter shrugged, trying to play it off. “Mr Stark, please leave it.”

“Kid, i’m worried.” Mr Stark admitted. “Talk to me and then i’ll leave it.”

Pete thought about it before deciding it would just be best to admit what had happened. “No one believes i have an internship here and Flash is making my life hell because of it. H-he said that just because Uncle B-ben died, doesn’t mean i can be an attention-seeking whore.” He heard Ned’s gasp at the comment and felt Tony tense up beside him.

“Flash said that?”

“That little prick.”

“Please don’t do anything!” Peter begged at Mr Stark but the man just shook his head.

“I’ll see you later kid,” he got up, pulling his hat down lower so no one noticed him. “Keep your chin up, yeah.”

“Bye Mr Stark.” Peter watched as the man left.

“Dude that was Tony Stark!” Ned hissed, his eyes wide.

Peter groaned. “He’s going to do something isn’t he!”

—————

Peter thought he was in the clear when they only had ten minutes left of the tour. After his nasty comment, Flash had backed off Peter but the rest of the class still eyed him with annoyed looks. Peter just tried to ignore it. Chin up, Mr Stark had said. So he did. Who cared, right? 

Their class was walking through the lobby, Amanda wishing them farewell when a voice made them all stop. 

“Wait one moment!” Mr Stark called, walking briskly through the lobby without a care in the world. He was dressed in a fancy suit and his usual lightly coloured sunglasses compared to the causal clothes he’d worn at lunch and dark glasses. He looked more like the press version of Mr Stark.

“Oh my god,” someone whispered beside Peter.

“It’s Tony freaking Stark!”

“Do you think he’ll sign my bag?”

“This is the best day ever!”

“M-Mr Stark!” Amanda’s eyes were wide and she looked completely thrown off by his appearance.

“The one and only,” Mr Stark chuckled. “I’m sorry about this intrusion but i had to give Mr Parker this.” He held up a white badge with a red number 6 on it. With a small smirk, he made his way over to Peter and gave it to the kid. “Sorry kid, i assumed that you already had one— it wasn’t until FRIDAY informed me that you used a guest badge today that i realised my own personal intern didn’t have a security badge. My fault entirely.”

Peter was too shocked to reply, instead blinking a few times. Mr Stark just nudged his shoulder before turning to the teacher. “Which student is Eugene Thompson?” 

Mr Harrington opened his mouth before closing it in shock. He slowly lifted a shaky hand and pointed to Flash, his eyes wide and mouth opened slightly. 

“Ah Mr Thompson,” Mr Stark pulled a folded envelope out of his pocket and handed it to the teen. “We were going to send this to you but why go through the hassle of New York mail when i can hand deliver it? Stark Industries apologises but your application for an internship had been denied— again.”

Flash’s cheeks went bright red, making Mr Stark smile in satisfaction. “Well have a safe travel, Midtown.” He called, already walking off.

No one spoke for a whole minute as everyones eyes moved from Peter with his level 6 badge to Flash and his denied application. Peter felt his phone buzz, pulling it out to reveal a text from Mr Stark.

TS: Don’t lose the badge, kid, they’re a hassle to print off.

TS: Did Rhodey tell you it’s spagbol tonight? 

Peter smiled to himself; he was glad that Mr Stark cared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally couldn't resist doing the field trip trope, i love them so much XD


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's there for Peter through thick and thin.

The sun was shining brightly through his curtains, sending a warm glow through his room. Peter didn’t care. He laid in bed on his side, duvet pulled up to his chin and stared blankly at the wall opposite him. He wanted to scream or cry or maybe even both but nothing came out. There was nothing left in him for that kind of emotion. He hasn’t cried since the hospital.

“Hey buddy,” Mr Stark’s voice was soft and kind but Peter saw through it. There was an undercurrent of concern in his tone and maybe even some fatigue. Peter knew he was being difficult staying in bed all day, every day, but he had no strength to do anything else. The first two weeks, when he’d still been in New York and had school, Peter had functioned monotonously. He’d showered and gone to school, eaten his lunch quietly and gone to bed before he could feel bad about leaving Queens without their vigilante. 

But then half term rolled around and Mr Stark had argued that a change in scenery could do him some good. So that was how he ended up laying on probably a $10,000 bed, practically comatose, in Malibu, California. 

“You want something to eat?” Mr Stark stepped into his room a little more but Peter didn’t spare him a glance. That wall was just so interesting. 

Peter didn’t reply— but then Mr Stark was used to that by now. Peter didn’t speak much these days and if he did it was normally just a small noise that was meant to be a reply. Mr Stark had become fluent in his grunts and shrugs by now to know what he meant.

“Peter, buddy,” Mr Stark walked in and sat on his bed, sighing. But then it wasn’t really Peter’s bed was it? It was Mr Stark’s spare room that he was currently occupying. 

“You need to eat, Peter.” Mr Stark hesitantly placed a hand on Peter’s still form. Everything was strained now; gone were the easy functions of mentor and mentee, instead replaced with the forced relationship they had now. Peter could just tell how much Mr Stark was trying to be what Peter needed— he could tell from the man’s attempt to be comforting and his hovering. 

Peter grunted. Not hungry. Mr Stark sighed. “You have a fast metabolism Peter, all you ate yesterday was a small sandwich— you need almost three times an average male calories intake. Please, kid, eat for me?” Peter just shut his eyes. It felt like forever that he heard Mr Stark sigh again before getting off the bed and closing the door behind him.

When Ben died, Peter had been there. He’d held his dying uncle and he’d been able to say his broken goodbyes. He’d seen the life leave Ben’s eyes and his hands would forever be covered in his blood but it was all made worth it for he’d been there for the man’s final words. A simple but sweet: “I love you Peter,” before his hand, that had been pressed to Peter’s cheek, had gone limp.

May had died alone. She’d been coming back from night school in the early hours of the morning, her book bag slung over her shoulder and he headphones in, when a drunk driver had hit her. She’d died instantly. The worst thing was that Peter didn’t even remember what the last thing he’d said to her had been. Had he told her he larbed her? Or was it just a simple: “May we ran out of milk, can you get some after work?” comment that was so normal and wrong to be your last words. 

Peter had broken down in the hospital shortly after he’d arrived. They had to ask him to identify the corpse, the sight of May’s still and bruised face still burnt on his eyelids whenever he closed his eyes. He’d sobbed until he couldn’t breathe straight after that, being unconsolable by the nurses. Only when he’d calmed down enough had be been able to call Mr Stark and the man had arrived in record breaking time, letting Peter cry himself out on his shoulder. 

He hadn’t cried since then. Not when Mr Stark took him back to the compound, or when all his old stuff arrived in boxes from his apartment or even at the funeral. He’d just stared at Aunt May’s coffin, unable to believe that she was gone.

It was too unfair. Too cruel for her to have died. She’d been working long hours to support him whilst also working on getting a better education to receive a promotion . . . and now she just wasn’t around anymore. 

No more “i larb you” or burnt food in the kitchen or super soft hugs that made him feel safe. No more simple teasings about his nerdy pun tops or Thai nights at the restaurant around the corner. No more scoldings about going out too late as Spider-Man. No more May.

Before could help it, the sobs were escaping him in heavy waves. His whole body heaved as he cried violently and with no end. The tears rolled down his cheeks in fat rolls, his mouth pulled down in a grimace. 

Suddenly there was someone pulling him to their chest, holding him close and rubbing a hand comfortingly over his back, the other in his hair. They started rocking him and quietly shushing him.

“It’s okay kid, let it out,” Mr Stark whispered as Peter clung to him, sobbing harder. “It’s going to be okay— i’m here for you.”

They spent what felt like hours like that, Peter finally crying and Mr Stark whispering encouragements to him. It wasn’t the end of Peter’s pain or grief but it was a breakthrough to recovery. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter muffled once he managed to regain his voice. He was still in Mr Stark’s grip, his head on the man’s shoulder and his hands gripping his t-shirt in fists. 

“No Pete,” Mr Stark whispered, running his hand through the kids hair. “Don’t apologise. Honestly, i’ve been more concerned with your apathy recently. Crying is good; crying is letting it out. It means you’re feeling.”

“Did you cry? After your parents died?” 

Mr Stark took in a shaky breath, his head bending down lower so it was centimetres from Peter’s. “I did everything but cry, to be honest. I drank, i partied, i slept with nameless people and took drugs— you name it, i probably did it.”

“Did it help?” Peter whispered, squeezing his eyes tight. He knew about Mr Stark’s past party days; Uncle Ben would turn off the news when the reporter went into another Tony Stark scandal but the kids at school always talked and Peter always read the front covers of magazines in the street stands. He hadn’t known that the partying was a means to cover up or get over his grief. 

“No,” Mr Stark admitted. “It did the opposite, actually. The high points were great— i would get so completely drunk that nights just became a blur. And if they were a blur, then so was my grief. But the comedown, kid, was brutal. Waking up each morning with a killer hangover as well as all the pain i was trying to forget— no, i don’t recommend it.”

“Why didn’t you just stop drinking and try and deal with it sober?” Peter asked, too tired to care if he was being rude.

Mr Stark chuckled softly, his hand still in Peter’s curls, scratching at his scalp in a grounding way. “See? This is why you’re so much better than me, kiddo. I was older than you and i didn’t even think it through like you; i just got drunk because it felt good for a few hours.”

They sat like that for a little while longer, Mr Stark running a hand through Peter’s curls and Peter laying his head on Mr Stark’s shoulder. Perfectly content in each others presence. There was something safe about being around Mr Stark that Peter just couldn’t place. And then Mr Stark spoke up again, his voice suddenly more grave than it had been before. “Truth be told, i didn’t really have anyone to reign me in when i was struggling.”

“What about that other guy? You had a godfather though, right?” Peter tried to remember Mr Stark’s old buisness partner and godfather’s name, he’d seen it on the news a few times as a kid. He’d never liked the look of him though with his annoying smirk and creepy attempt of being charismatic. Where Mr Stark was a born natural, the other guy forced it down people’s throats. 

“Obadiah?” Mr Stark’s voice grew cold. “No, he never cared. Legally, he was meant to look after me but as long as i was functioning Monday morning, he didn’t care what trouble i got into Sunday night.”

“Mr Stark,” Peter paused, pulling out of the man’s embrace and shuddering at the coldness that swept through him as he did. “I don’t want to be any trouble. Neither you or Miss Potts signed up for this— for me— and i don’t want to put you out anymore. I really appreciate you helping me out and taking me to California to clear my head but i can’t just keep being a nuisance to you. You don’t need to worry about me, honestly. Alcohol, parties and drugs aren’t really my thing and you’re already so much better than that Obadiah guy but-“

Mr Stark sighed. “You’re already better than me kid; I’m not worried about you getting addicted to alcohol or god forbid, drugs. And screw Obie, it wouldn’t take much to be better than him. You’re not a nuisance Pete or anything else you’ve been telling yourself in your head. Pep and I are here for you because we want to be. I understand what it’s like to lose the last little piece of your family— i know how soul crushing that can be. 

You’re such a good kid, Peter. You help out everyone and anyone, both as Spider-Man and Peter Parker. I’m just asking that you let me help you now. Not because i feel obliged to or have some weird fear that you’ll turn out like me. I’m here— and Pepper’s here too— because Peter Parker deserves the world and life has just been shit to him. And if we can help in anyway, we’ll be there. Through thick and thin, kid.”

Tears welled up in Peter’s eyes as he shuffled back into Mr Stark’s arms, his head taking up place on his shoulder again. He took in Mr Stark’s scent: engine oil and expensive cologne, and wondered when that smell started to associate with home in his mind.

“Did you really not have anyone looking out for you?” Peter sniffed, the though bringing more tears to his eyes.

Mr Stark’s hands shook slightly in Peter’s hair but he kept running his fingers through the teens curls, as if the movement was just as calming for him as it was for Peter. “I had Rhodey,” Tony admitted. “Just like you have your guy-in-the-chair — what’s his name? Ted?”

Peter let out a soft laugh, muffled by his still flowing tears. “His name’s Ned.”

“Same difference,” Mr Stark shrugged. “It was Rhodey who often pulled me out of situations where i was in over my head— saved my life a few times, too.”

“Go Rhodey,” Peter whispered, nuzzling in closer to Mr Stark. He was starting to feel slightly tired now and the warmth Mr Stark radiated was making him drowsy. 

“Kid,” Mr Stark whispered, having noticed that Peter was practically falling asleep on his shoulder and taking advantage of his drowsy state. “You do know that i’m here for the long haul, yeah? Not because of Spider-Man or because of some guilt-complex? I’m here for you: Peter Parker, because i want to be here.”

The words seemed to make sense in Peter’s brain, his eyes slowly closing as he breathed in Mr Stark’s signature scent. Home. Because Mr Stark had never acted like he was using Peter for vigilante purposes; he always asked about his day and patched him up when he was hurt. He ruffled his hair and teased him about crushes; he invited him over for dinners because Peter— not Spider-Man— was lonely. Everything Mr Stark had done had been for Peter Parker.

“Yeah Mr Stark,” his words were slurred with sleep but he was sure Mr Stark understood. “I know that.”

Aunt May was gone and she was never coming back— and yes, that was unfair and no, he wouldn’t ever get over that a hundred percent— but Mr Stark was there and he was holding Peter as close as he could and he was promising to never leave. And Peter decided that for now, that was enough.

Because Mr Stark cared about him and Peter knew, no matter what, he would be there for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh i killed off May :(( i love her character but i felt it was important to the story so pls don't hate me :(


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets sick and only makes it 100x worse.

Peter hadn’t gotten sick since the spider bite— he’d been under the impression that he was unable to catch a common cold. Given his enchanted metabolism and fast healing, he doubted that simple bugs even stayed in his system long enough to get a normal runny nose. Well, until today.

Peter had woken up with a killer headache and felt achy all over. It was weird because he’d gone to bed without any issues the night before. But as he looked in the mirror of his bathroom, he knew he was sick. Pale face and sweaty features, bags under his eyes amplified by his paleness; his nose was red from sneezing so much and his lips were chapped as he coughed repeatedly. 

He groaned as he dragged himself into the hot shower, his whole body just ready to shut down. He guessed that his sudden illness must be a direct cause from the last several months. After the devastating events of May’s death, Peter had stopped looking after himself. He’d stayed in bed all day and hardly eaten for a whole week before he eventually cried on Mr Stark’s— Tony, he calls him Tony now— shoulder. 

A few days later, Tony had decided enough was enough. He’d started to come down harder on him: forcing him out of bed before 10:30 each morning, making sure he ate three meals a day (which Peter would never admit to being grateful for, for he had been seriously hungry those days he’d stayed in bed). Tony also made sure he got enough exercise but more importantly, he forced Peter to open up. If Peter so much as pulled a sad face, Tony was all over him with the ‘are you okay kid?’s and ‘talk to me, Peter, what is it?’ 

Gradually, the pain lessened. It was still there— he woke up some morning completely forgetting the tragic change in his life before the weight settled in again. Those were bad days. But it was getting better. Now several months after May’s death and Peter was starting to get a spring in his step again. He’d spoken to Ned for a whole hour the other day about why The Force Awakens was just A New Hope but set a few decades later without getting misty eyed, thinking about how May would’ve lovingly rolled her eyes at their nerdy conversations.

Tony had taken legal guardianship almost immediately after May’s passing, paying expensive lawyers to get the papers pushed through faster than Peter even thought was legal. They’d spent a whole two weeks out in California soaking in the sun and walking on the beaches (after Tony forced Peter out of his depression) before flying back to New York when school began again.

Peter had expected to return back to the Compound but once they landed, Tony had driven both him and Pepper back into Queens. It turned out that whilst in California, Tony had brought a penthouse apartment in the fancier side of Queens, only a 20 minute drive from Peter’s school and had all of their things set up in their rooms. The apartment was smaller than any other building or home Tony had owned but Pepper had explained that they’d thought Peter would appreciate a more homey environment, given his upbringing.

Despite both Pepper and Tony’s reassurances, Peter still felt bad about flipping their lives upside down. Pepper now had to drive to the Compound each morning and Tony would occasionally join her to spend time in his much bigger lab upstate. The one Tony had brought a level below them now was almost a half of Tony’s Malibu one.

When Peter stepped out of the shower, he’d hoped the hot water had killed any sickness in him. He imagined looking in the mirror and seeing a pink, smiling face but in reality he was met with a bleary eyed, pale frown. If anything, the shower made him look sicker. Peter groaned— he really couldn’t be sick today. He had a Spanish quiz that Tony had been testing him on and Pepper had helped him write the English essay that was due in today; if they wasted their time to help him then he owed them the decency to show their handwork paid off. 

“Peter, you up?” He heard Pepper call from outside his door. Her heels were clicking as she paced outside his room not wanting to invade his privacy but also trying to do her newly parental duty.

“Yeah Pepper,” Peter called, cringing at how worn down his voice sounded. 

“You okay Peter?” Pepper’s heels sounded closer now like she was debating coming in or not.

“I’m fine!” Peter lied. “Just tired!” He coughed into his hand, hating how sore his throat felt in that moment. 

“Okay sweetie,” Pepper conceded. If it had been Tony, he would’ve barged in and demanded Peter reveal if he was sick or not. Ever since he moved in, his now legal guardian had amped up his helicopter parenting to the maximum. “Happy’s waiting for you in the car so don’t be too long, okay?”

“Okay!” Peter’s voice wobbled and he could hear Pepper’s heels come closer one last time before she sighed and walked away. Peter liked that Pepper took her new guardianship role less overbearingly than Tony does. 

Rummaging through the drawers beneath his sink, Peter managed to find a few cold medicines that Tony must’ve stocked up on. He looked at the cough medicine in a brown glass bottle, quickly unscrewing the lid and downing the liquid in a few seconds. With his increased metabolism, he needed more dosage than the average person. 

He threw the tub of cold medicine tablets into his school bag before throwing on an old sweatshirt and jeans. Peter managed to avoid Tony as he left for school, pulling his hoodie up so no one would notice he was ill.

“You look pretty sick kid,” Happy greeted him as Peter slid into the backseat of his car. “Does Tony know you’re ill?” Before Peter could even reply, Happy was driving away, shaking his head. “Of course he doesn’t or you wouldn’t be allowed out.”

“I have a Spanish test, Happy!” Peter tried to ignore how phlegmy his voice was. Happy obviously noticed for he cringed. “Please don’t tell on me.”

Happy rolled his eyes. “Its your death, kid.”

“I’m not that sick!” Peter retaliated. “I’m just under the weather.”

“You look ready to kneel over.”

“Wow, thanks Happy for the confidence boost.” Happy sighed at his comment, muttering things under his breath that Peter was tuned out. He rested his head against the windowsill, letting the sun shine down on his head as they drove to his school.

It felt like two minutes later that Happy was yelling his name. “Peter! I swear to God kid, get out of my damn car!”  
Peter shook awake, his head feeling heavy and foggy, trying to take in what was going on. They were at school. And Happy was yelling. 

“Kid! I’ll call Tony!” The threat was enough to get Peter’s bones moving, for he quickly swung his bag over his shoulder and stumbled out the car. There was a slight pain in his stomach that he ignored as he watched Happy whizz off without a backwards glance. Peter sneezed, wishing he could be back in the car and sleeping again.

The sickness only got worse after school started. Peter had hoped the joy of learning would distract him but the pain in his stomach had been getting worse so Peter took some painkillers to help calm it, taking around 10 each dosage. He remembered when he’d needed a tooth taken out several months ago and Tony had said Peter needed the same high dosage of painkillers as Captain America himself. 

The pain in his stomach had gotten even worse by lunch. Peter groaned, resting his head on the table, feeling cold sweat start to run down his forehead. His stomach was churning and constricting in painful waves.

“Dude, go to the nurse,” Ned told him as he ate his sandwich. Peter could smell the mayo wafting from the sandwich to his nose, feeling his stomach twist again. 

“She’ll phone Tony, Ned,” Peter groaned.

“And her phoning Tony is a bad thing?” Ned pulled a face, taking another bite. “You’re obviously sick, Peter.”

“I have a—“ another groan at another stomach twist. Seriously, was his stomach even okay right now? “Spanish test right after lunch.”

“I think our teacher will understand if you’re sick, dude. Look at you: your skin is pale and— gross, sweaty too— your eyes are like glazed over and your voice sounds like you smoked 80 packs of cigarettes in the last 5 minutes. Go home. MJ, aren’t i right?”

Both boys turned to the girl sitting a few seats away from them, picking at her sandwich as she read her book. She didn’t even glance at Peter before nodding. “Ned’s right, you look like shit.”

“You haven’t even looked at me!” Peter argued before coughing again. The cough only made his stomach twist again, making him blanch at the sheer pain. It felt like a white hot knife was being jammed into his stomach again and again and again.

“I don’t need to,” MJ shot back, turning the page of her book. “There’s no denying you’re sick.”

Peter groaned, banging his head against the table. He was too out of it to see the worried glances Ned and MJ shot each other.

“Have you at least taken any painkillers?” MJ asked, setting her book down and turning to Peter with a frown. 

“Duh!” Peter pulled out his tub of painkillers from his bag, trying not to cry as his stomach jostled. “I have about 8 left.” He poured them into his hand, taking one deep breath before throwing them in his mouth. He was just reaching for his water when Ned yelled out.

“Peter! Stop!”

“You absolute idiot!” MJ slapped him on the back, making Peter spit out the tablets in his mouth. All 8 scattered over the table, looking very sorry for themselves. Peter frowned at his friend, his stomach doing another leap, before he noticed Ned’s wide eyes.

“What?” Peter shot at them, frustrated now. “MJ what the hell was that for?”

“You can’t just have 8 tablets in one go Parker!” MJ hissed. “So what the hell is wrong with you!”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I have powers remember,” he whispered the word powers, despite no one paying them any attention from other tables. “I metabolise things faster so i need more dosage. It’s fine, really.”

“But Peter—“ Ned looked scared like he’d just realised something horrible. “You’re sick!”

Peter tried to not lose his temper with his best friend; his stomach killed and Ned was playing the spotting the obvious game.

“Yeah Ned, so?”

“So— so, you shouldn’t get sick! Because your metabolism is fast! But if your metabolism is weak enough to let a cold in then how the hell are you meant to metabolise the drugs?”

Peter’s eyes widened as the realisation dawned on him. His lack of self-preservation over the last few months must have slowed his healing down and allowed a common cold through . . . so would it be able to take the amount of painkillers and cough medicine he’d taken?

His stomach gave another turn, stabbing him over and over. The answer was no.

“Peter—“ MJ’s voice was cold. “How many tablets have you had?”

“I- i dont know! The whole tub— i guess? I just kept shoving handfuls in!”

“Peter!” Ned’s voice was high and he looked just as scared as Peter now felt. “You need to call Tony!”

Peter nodded, his hands shaking as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked it quickly, finger hovering over Tony’s contact when a wave of nausea overcame him. Peter dropped everything, placing a hand over his mouth and bolting towards the toilets. He could hear Ned and MJ call after him but he couldn’t stop running.

He barely made it to the toilet, throwing open the cubicle door and practically falling to his knees and he threw up. It smelt horrendous and Peter groaned as he threw up several more times, the colour definitely not right. His stomach still churned as he threw up on repeat. He barely acknowledged when Ned came in, Peter’s phone in hand, and a worried look on his face. 

“Tony’s on his way Peter—“ That was the last thing he heard before he blacked out. Tony was coming, he would be there soon and Peter would be better when he woke up. . . Right?

 

—————

 

Peter twiddled his thumbs as he sat on the white sofa, eyes cast down at his feet. He swallowed loudly, feeling waves of anxiety rush over him. Tony was sitting on a chair opposite him, his eyes boring straight into Peter’s head. Neither said anything, instead daring the other to speak first.

Tony cracked first. “You going to start talking Peter? That was the whole point is this talk, right?”

Peter swallowed again, shaking his head slightly and keeping his eyes on his feet. It had been three days since Tony had barged into the school’s toilets to find Peter passed out, surrounded by his vomit, with Ned crying beside him. Three days since his stomach had been pumped and Tony had looked ready to cry when Peter had woken up in the med bay— no longer dying. 

The doctors had explained that Peter’s metabolism had been lowered due to lack of appetite throughout his grief, meaning his healing had been halted slightly and therefore making him susceptible to normal illnesses. It also meant his metabolism of painkillers was back to the average dosage so the amount of pills he’d taken had sent him into an overdose. The only reason he hadn’t died and had been coherent at school, was because his healing was still functioning— albeit slower than normal— and prevented him from having a proper OD.

“Really? No words?” Peter couldn’t tell if Tony was sounding more harsh or concerned at this point. 

Peter just shrugged; in all honesty, he was embarrassed by the events. He should’ve realised that if he could catch a cold, he couldn’t take so many painkillers . . . but no, he’d done something stupid and worried a lot of people because of it. Tony was a genius— he wouldn’t understand Peter’s stupidity.

Tony let out a shaky sigh, running his hand over his face. “Okay, then i’ll start Pete. I’m not so good with, uh, emotional talks, okay? So hear me out? I know these last few months have been hard— you’ve handled it so well and i’m so proud of you. And i get that sometimes it feels like there’s no way out of the pain but there is, okay? There will always be good days and bad days but you gotta push through; that’s what grief is: pushing through until theres more good days than bad. 

I just— I’m here kid, okay? I’m here and you should’ve come to me if you were struggling. I would’ve helped . . . and if you don’t want to talk to me, then we can arrange for you to speak to someone. A professional, yeah? I have a therapist myself and they’re really helpful to work through your problems so something like this doesn’t happen again—“

Peter’s eyes snapped up at Tony’s words, taking in the man before him. Tony looked wrecked; his eyes were glassy and his hands were shaking as he talked but the man pushed through, trying to not let his emotion break his speech. 

It was then that a horrible thought overcame Peter. “Tony— i didn’t do this on purpose!”

Tony paused, his mouth half open before closing it again and narrowing his eyes. “Peter, you took an entire tub of painkillers and downed an unopened bottle of cough fluid— you did that by accident? What it just fell into your mouth?” Tony’s voice became more strained like he was trying desperately to prove a point.

Peter sighed, suddenly realising how horrible this looked. He had purposely taken the drugs and he’d made the conscious decision to have more than average each time in frequent quantities but it hadn’t been to . . . hurt himself. He’d just been stupid.

“Tony seriously! This was an accident!” Peter tried again, bile rising up in his throat over the thought. Had Tony been worrying over this for 3 days? The idea of Tony thinking Peter had tried to kill himself for 3 days made him want to cry. No wonder the man looked beat up.

“An accident is forgetting when you last took painkillers, not taking almost 40 in less than a day!” Tony suddenly shouted, standing up from his chair and pacing in front of Peter, running a hand over his face in frustration. “Kid—“ Tony took a shaky breathe, calming himself down. “I’m not trying to freak you out and i didn’t mean to yell but . . . you can talk to me. So please, talk. Let me into your head.”

Peter stood up as well, tears beginning to pool in his eyes. This was a really bad conversation. “Tony, i woke up ill and i didn’t want to miss school so i took too many painkillers to feel better. I didn’t think— i thought i needed more because of my metabolism.”

“But you were sick! Your metabolism was weakened!” Tony shot back.

“I d-didn’t think about that!” Peter stuttered, his lip wobbling as he tried to hold back from sobbing. “P-please, i really didn’t try to . . .”

Tony stood back and stared at Peter for a second longer, before swallowing heavily and narrowing his eyes again ever so slightly. He dared Peter to lie. “You really didn’t think?”

Peter shook his head, a small tear leaking out of his eye. “I p-promise.”

Tony nodded, stepping closer and pulling Peter into his embrace. He held Peter to his chest, one arm wrapped around his back whilst the other snaked itself in his hair; he pressed his cheek on the top of Peter’s head as the boy rested it on Tony’s shoulder. Tony breathed in the scent of Peter’s shampoo thanking every deity and God that was out there in the Universe that Peter was alive and well— and that he hadn’t tried to hurt himself. Honestly, Tony didn’t even know what he would do if Peter died. 

When he told Peter that much, the teen sniffled, burying his head further into Tony’s neck. “I wouldn’t ever do that to you,” he whispered just loud enough for the man to hear. 

Because Peter knew he couldn’t ever hurt Tony like that, not when he cared so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is probably a million medical inaccuracies in this so sorry about that whoops ://


	6. +1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter tells Tony how much he cares too.

“. . . You know our price Stark, it’s your call now.” The man with the really deep voice spoke into the camera before shutting it off. He wore a black balaclava which only showed his piercing green eyes, just like the three other men standing around Peter.

Peter moved around in his chair again, trying to see if he could wiggle the chains off of him. They’d tied him down to a chair when he’d been unconscious before putting vibranium enforced shackles to his hands and feet, meaning he couldn’t move or break free. 

“He won’t give in,” Peter told his kidnappers. There weren’t many of them but they’d packed enough manpower behind their abduction that it was quality over quantity. 

The leader, the one who’d given Tony the demands just a few seconds ago, gave him a nasty glare. “Oh i think you’d be surprised.” 

“Now shut up kid,” the muscle of the operation snarled, kicking one of Peter’s chair legs so his body wobbled slightly. 

“What do we do now?” The one holding a gun asked, walking over to where the leader was uploading the video. Peter desperately wished that something would go wrong and the video wouldn’t be sent to the internet. In probably about 10 minutes, everyone was going to see it: Ned, MJ, his teachers, Rhodey, Pepper . . . and Tony. In 10 minutes, Tony was going to realise Peter had ditched Decathlon practice and was now being held in what he can only assume is an abandoned warehouse. 

Peter desperately wished he hadn’t ditched Decathlon now; he just hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of seeing Flash for another hour and was only going to go on a short walk for the hour before he had to make his way back to Happy’s waiting car. The men had jumped him 15 minutes into his walk. His spidey-sense had gone crazy, sending shooting pains up the back of his head, making him rip his headphones out in a cry of pain. And something sharp had been pressed into his neck, sending him into unconsciousness in seconds. 

The men knew his identity. That’s why he was shackled in vibranium and given enough tranquilliser that it would’ve killed the average man. The leader had slapped Peter the second he’d woken up, hissing the deadliest words: “The Vulture says hi.”

Peter wiggled in his chair again, wondering if he would be able to get the shackles off without causing noise and preferably without breaking his wrist. He twisted his arms a few times before giving up. The restraints were really tight and there was no way to break free. The men hadn’t taken any chances on an enhanced vigilante. 

“You trying to break free?” The mean one stepped closer to Peter, his eyes taunting him. He slapped Peter in the face, laughing as he did so. “Is widdle Spidey-Man trying to break free?” Meanie spoke in a baby voice before slapping Peter again.

“I’m 15 not 5!” Peter shot, trying to ignore the burning feeling of his cheek.

This only pissed off Meanie more for he turned to Muscles and scoffed. “Did ya hear the attitude in his tone?” Muscles just rolled his eyes, looking away. “I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson widdle baby-waby Spidey-Widey.” The punch hit Peter in the mouth, making his lip bleed as Meanie laughed.

“Oi!” The leader paused in his download, sending Meanie a glare. “Let’s leave the bruising for the videos.”

“He started it,” Meanie shrugged, sending Peter a smirk before walking off. Peter spat out blood, wishing with everything he had that he was stronger than vibranium. 

“There we go,” the leader sounded pleased with himself, standing up from the desk he’d been sat at as Peter watched the screen on the computer read: DOWNLOAD COMPLETE. He groaned to himself, head hanging low. It wasn’t like Tony wouldn’t have already been worrying; Peter should’ve been home hours ago, he was sure. But now there was a video circling the internet where 4 men in masks stand around a teenage boy and beat the shit out of him, before demand that The Tony Stark hand over all his Iron Man suits and the blue prints for the Arc Reactor if he didn’t want the kid to die. 

“It’s already blowing up,” the leader called out to the others what felt like hours later. “Tony Stark is trending on Twitter and all the major news channels are already reporting the incident.” He clicked on a news website, pulling up the video of a red-haired woman talking into the camera with a grave expression.

“. . .no word from Tony Stark yet surrounding the video that surfaced several hours ago where 4 men in masks beat up a young, teenage boy. The boy has been identified as Peter Benjamin Parker, to whom has been in Mr Stark’s custody the last several months after the passing of his last family member, May Parker. The men demanded Mr Stark hand over the Iron Man suits and Arc Reactor blue prints if he wished for his ward to survive the brutal kidnapping-“

“Stark contact you yet?” Mr Gun asked, twirling the weapon around in his hand.

The leader shook his head. “My guess is it’s any time soon.”

“What makes you think Stark actually cares?” Meanie spoke up. “If i were him, i would let the little shit die.” Peter glared at Meanie who just smirked in response. 

The leader rolled his eyes. “Of course he cares— you think i didn’t care about Nicky just because he wasn’t my biological kid? Stark will contact us soon.”

“Maybe he needs some incentive?” Muscles spoke up, his voice gravelly. 

“You mean another video?” Mr Gun asked, his weapon still spinning in his hand.

“Yeah but this time from the kid.”

The leader turned his gaze to Peter, staring at him for a long time. He seemed to be weighing up the options of Peter talking to the camera. Eventually he nodded, grabbing the camera and mounting it like he had several hours previously. 

“You all know the drill,” he told the others as they resumed their spots standing around Peter. The teen tried to wiggle again but it was pointless. “And you” he turned to Peter who was now wiggling in his seat, “Tell Stark how much you miss him and should give in to our demands. Cry a little maybe.”

Peter just glared as Mr Gun pressed the record button on the camera, the little red light coming on. Peter swallowed heavily, keeping his mouth shut.

“You know, my phone must be broken,” the leader drawled. “Because i seem to have missed your call Stark. There’s someone here who wants to speak to you, actually. Hey Pete, anything you wanna say?”

Peter looked up at his abductor and glared, keeping his mouth shut. The leader glared at him before turning back to the camera. “Sorry, he’s a little shy.” He looked at Muscles and sighed. “Wanna loosen his tongue.”

The next few punches hurt like hell, repeatedly punching him in the same spot until he was sure he’d have a bruise for months afterwards. Muscles rained the punches down with no mercy, his fist just as fat and beefy as the rest of his body. Peter groaned, his jaw throbbing and a black eye forming, spitting blood out of his mouth onto the ground beside him. 

“My turn,” Meanie stepped forward with a snarl. Peter expected another slap or punch but the man grabbed his throat, squeezing tight until Peter was violently trying to shake him off. He couldn’t breathe . . . he couldn’t breathe . . . his lungs started to burn . . . he couldn’t breathe . . . his mouth opened and closed several times in a failed attempt to suck in a breath . . . his vision started to swim and he could see black spots in his sight.

Peter was half aware that thousands of people were going to watch this in several minutes time when the leader uploaded it— or would he delete it if Meanie killed him? Peter wishes he would delete it so Tony never saw it. His Dad didn’t deserve to see that . . .

He couldn’t breathe . . . his lungs were screaming for air . . . his throat felt like it was being crushed . . . Meanie was smirking at him as his hands squeezed tighter . . . Peter thrashed in his chair, trying to shake him off . . . his body started to go limp . . . he couldn’t move anymore . . . he couldn’t breathe.

Had he just called Tony Dad in his head? The thought didn’t elicit any guilt or pain like he would’ve imagined. Because, yes, Tony was his Dad. He’d been his Dad from before May died and he would continue to be his Dad after Peter was gone and buried. Or however else these men got rid of his body. 

And God, did he want his Dad right now . . .

Muscles suddenly grabbed Meanie, pulling him away from Peter with a snarl. The sudden acceptance of air back in his lungs burnt like hell, Peter sucking in as much as his nose and mouth could take, coughing as he did so. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to regain control of his breathing. His eyes opened and he could see Muscles holding onto Meanie off camera with Mr Gun and the leader stood in shock.

“Got anything to say now Peter?” The leader spoke up after his initial shock wore off. 

Peter swallowed hard, his throat sore and tight. He opened his mouth, coughing several times before he spoke. His voice sounded strange and broken but he tried to push through. “D-don't give in to their demands!” 

The leader rolled his eyes, punching Peter in the face. “Anything else?”

“I’ll b-be oka-okay, i p-promise.” Peter stared right at the camera, imagining his Dad’s face. Everything he was saying now was for him. “I j-just want to s-say thank y-you. You’ve been l-looking after me for s-so long— even b-before Aunt M-May died . . . i haven’t told y-you enough how much i ap-appreciate it.” He coughed again, his throat feeling like he’d swallowed sandpaper. “I miss y-you s-so much— Pepper and R-Rhodey and Happy too. Ned, MJ i’ll see y-you at school soon, ok-okay? Y-you’re such good fr-friends. D-don’t worry ab-about me— i’m t-tougher than i l-look.”

Peter stared at the camera for a minute longer, sucking in a deep breathe, ignoring how it burnt. He’d never said this to his Dad before but given the circumstances, he didn’t know if he would ever be able to say it again. 

“I love y-you, Dad.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” the leader spoke just as the large doors behind them were blown apart. Mr Gun started shooting immediately as men in protective uniforms came barging in, Iron Man at the front shooting repulser blasts towards the men. 

“How’d he find us?” Mr Gun yelled as him and the leader started shooting at the SHIELD agents, Iron Man making a beeline for his kid. Peter watched as Muscles and Meanie fell to the ground, blood seeping out their bodies in a waterfall. It didn’t take much longer before Mr Gun and the leader fell down too, the sounds of their corpses hitting the ground echoing in Peter’s head.

“—id? Kid? Peter? Are you okay?” The frantic voice of his Dad suddenly filled his ringing ears, the gunshots and explosion having made him slightly out of it. Sure enough though, his Dad was standing in front of him, helmet retracted so Peter could see his worried face and relived eyes.

“Hi,” Peter coughed, watching as a small grin spread across his Dad’s face.

“Hi kid,” his Dad whispered back, pushing some of Peter’s hair back with one hand. He frowned as he looked at all the bruises and cuts on his kids face. “I’m sorry i didn’t get here faster kiddo, they really covered their tracks well.”

“You still found me though.”

“I always will, Pete.” 

Peter felt as someone crouched down behind him, making quick work of releasing his shackles and restraints so he would be free from the chair he’d been chained to for several hours now.

“Sorry i d-ditched Decathlon,” Peter sighed as the SHIELD agent tried to take off the vibranium restraints.

His Dad just shook his head, expression sad. “We’ll talk later, kid. Right now, i’m just happy you’re safe.”

“I knew y-you’d come,” Peter let out a satisfied hiss as his hands and feet became free, being helped up out of the chair by his Dad. His legs wobbled, resulting in his Dad picking him up in an effortless hold. As Peter stared at his Dad, watching the obvious love for him shine in his eyes, Peter knew why he didn’t feel any guilt at seeing this man as his father. 

His Dad wasn’t trying to replace his biological father nor Uncle Ben— both of those men still lived in his heart and Peter could never even try to replace them in the first place. No, his Dad was just simply . . . his Dad. Because he was there for Peter and he never gave up. He cared about Peter in every way a father should.

Peter just wanted to show him that he cared too.

“I love y-you, Dad.” 

Tears welled up in his Dad’s eyes as he quickly pressed a kiss to his kid’s temple, absolute love shining through his eyes. He never thought he’d be a father but here he was, holding his kid as he called him Dad for the first time. Tony realised that after decades of searching for a meaning to his life: through the partying, Iron Man, the Avengers . . . none of it compared to the kid in his arms. Peter was the meaning to his existence and God help anyone try to take him from him again.

“I love you too, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg it's almost done, this is crazy!


	7. Alternate Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Peter didn't survive the kidnapping?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo this was my original ending to the story but then i changed my mind and made the ending wholesome instead but i'm gonna post this so you guys can either accept or live in denial of it :)))

“I love y-you, Dad.”

Tony sat in his workshop, bottle of whiskey grasped in his hand as he watched the same video on repeat. “FRI play it again.” His voice was croaky, a mixture of the booze and having not slept in several days.

The video rewinded several seconds until Peter’s messed up and bruised face came back, his eyes staring straight at the camera— at Tony— and whispering: “I love y-you, Dad.” This time, Tony couldn’t hold back the tears, letting them flow freely and without any attempt to stop them.

Dad— his kid had called him Dad. His last words had been that he— the perfect Peter Parker to whom Tony loved more than his own life and was forever broken over— loved the destructive Tony Stark. When his parents had died, Tony had called himself a bad luck charm; that everyone he loved was deemed to die. But then Rhodey had survived and Pepper, despite several times thinking she wouldn’t, had survived and even Happy was still walking around.

But not Peter. 

Tony had flown in guns blazing, having spent the hours since the original video of Peter’s abduction was released, using all the data checking he could to pin point where the kidnappers had taken his child. His son. It hadn’t been made official but Tony had been preparing to ask Peter if he wanted to be adopted. He wanted the kid as his son— hell, the kid had already been his son in every way but legal.

But just as he and a bunch of SHIELD agents came crashing into the warehouse he’d discovered his son was being held at, the one who’d been making the demands had turned his gun to Peter’s head. And Tony hadn’t been fast enough. He’d watched, a scream releasing from his throat, as a bullet launched itself into his son’s skull. 

He took another swig of his whiskey, rubbing his face to get rid of the tears that had dried on his cheeks. The video goes blurry once Peter whispers the word “Dad”, a loud bang sounding through the audio as the camera falls over. If he listens carefully, he can hear the sound of the gunshot, followed by his animalistic scream of agony.

“Rewind FRI,” he repeats, another swig of alcohol burning his throat.

“Boss, i feel the need to inform you that you’ve been up for almost 83 hours without considerable rest.”

“Yeah, so?” Tony didn’t care. He couldn’t sleep. If he slept, he dreamt of Peter; and then he’d wake up in a cold sweat thinking it was all a dream, walking into the kids room to check on him . . . only to realise Peter’s room was empty and it would never be full again.

Tony’s soul was broken and it was never going to be fixed. He took another swig of alcohol. A long time ago, he’d told the kid that he should’ve dealt with his grief sober when he’d lost his parents— he wondered what Peter would’ve thought, seeing Tony as drunk as he was now in order to deal with his death. But Tony decided to ignore his own advice— it wasn’t the same anyway. 

Losing Peter hurt a lot more than losing his parents. He loved his mum to no end and he still wished she was around, if only for some wise words and encouragement. But Peter’s death destroyed him in a way that he hadn’t thought was imaginable. It was like a nightmare that he couldn’t ever escape; a nightmare that tore open his heart and left him a shell of a man. He wasn’t the charismatic Tony Stark who could put on any brave face for the press anymore. Now, he was just a man who had lost a child. And the whole world knew it.

“Boss, Miss Potts is approaching.” Tony sighed as Pepper entered the lab, wearing a look of grief and concern.

“Tony?” She called gently. “Why are you still up?” He glanced at the clock that read it was 4:01am.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugged as if it was obvious. Tears filled Pepper’s eyes as she walked over to him. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her stomach pressed to his back, she kissed his temple gently.

“I miss him too,” she whispered.

“He called me Dad,” Tony admitted. “Before he died.”

The clip played again, Peter’s eyes wide and bruises already forming on his neck as he spoke the words Tony had engraved into his soul. “I love y-you, Dad.” Tony felt Pepper tense at seeing the kid on the screen; he was bruised up but he was still breathing. Still alive. He wasn’t anymore.

“It’s not healthy to keep watching this,” Pepper spoke after the clip had been replayed several times, Tony’s eyes never leaving Peter’s face. 

“I don’t care about healthy,” Tony shot back. He went to raise the bottle of whiskey to his lips again but Pepper was too quick, ripping it out of his grasp.

“Really? You don’t care about healthy?” Her mouth set angrily but Tony found it hard to care. “What would Peter think if he saw you like this? Drinking again? Not sleeping? Not eating? He wouldn’t want you to make yourself suffer, Tony.”

“It doesn’t matter what he would want!” Tony yelled, standing up from his chair, his hands running through his hair in frustration. “He’s dead!”

Pepper swallowed hard, tears welling up in her eyes. “I know, Tony.” She stepped forward hesitantly, resting a hand just above where the arc reactor had been a decade ago. “But he’s still in here. Even with him gone, you should continue to set a good example. It’s what he would’ve wanted.”

Tony went to argue but Pepper beat him to it. “Peter would want you to remember him— sober. He would want you to look after yourself the way you looked after him. That kid loved you so much, try and live your life recovering as if he were watching over you. Be the man you were for him alive, when he’s dead.”

Tony eyed the bottle she’d placed on the side but for the first time since Peter’s funeral, his body being buried beside the rest of the deceased Parker clan, the thought of drinking made him feel sick. The idea of alcohol now made him feel cold. He’d told Peter that alcohol doesn’t solve your problems, right? Well, he guessed it was time he did right by the kid and heed his own advice. 

“Come to bed,” Pepper pulled him towards her, half helping him to walk with her to their bedroom. They passed the empty room of their deceased kid, two sets of hearts breaking, before climbing into their bed. Silence enveloped them as they held each other, laying up at the ceiling without anything to say. Everything had already been said.

After what felt like hours, Tony’s eyes started to close and he allowed his body to drift off. For the first time in days, he wasn’t afraid to see Peter.

“I love y-you, Dad.”

Tomorrow was going to be a new day, Tony was sure, and he would do his best to make Peter proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i literally love everyone who liked my story and commented u guys r literally awesome thank u for giving such positive feedback :)))))))


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